


Ring of Thorns

by underthedream



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dream Team SMP Setting (Video Blogging RPF), Angst, DNF, Dream Team SMP Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Hunter GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Prison, Rings, dreamisinprison, dreamnotfound, george goes to talk to him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:07:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29517831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underthedream/pseuds/underthedream
Summary: Dream is in prison after his capture on the Dream SMP, and George goes to pay him a visit. He reminds Dream of a long ago promise they both made, and gives back a gift from another time.Inspired by fanart made by Planetsinpockets on Instagram. (Posted on February 1st)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	Ring of Thorns

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a link to the original farart by Planetsinpockets  
> Part 1: https://www.instagram.com/p/CKw6jo1lEs4/  
> Part 2: https://www.instagram.com/p/CKw6yhmlJ5N/

* * *

“I don’t think I was ever worth anything to you.” George was crouching with one hand holding one of the many bars placed between him and the shadowed figure. A sword and arrows at his back. The bow was left behind with the guards, not being allowed to take it with him. He glanced down after he said it, then took a deep breath before he looked up and continued, “I played along, sat in the back while you had your fun with Fundy.” Unseen, the figure kept his head down but slid his eyes up to George. “I sided with you in every war,” George kept going in an even tone, “But… ” He looked away again for just a moment and his lips hinted at a smile, tilting upward. “You would’ve used me too, wouldn’t you have?”

At first, the man was silent. His whole face was shrouded in shadows except for his mouth. A single chuckle escaped him while a smile slowly took form. “Oh George...” The man fully looked up now, his once golden hair now shades darker with the absence of natural lighting. Nevertheless, The dim torches lit his face but made for harsh shadow outlines in his jawline, cheekbones and temples. “What is there to use? You’re practically useless.” By the time he finished, a large smirk took place. “Just something to mess around with when I’m bored.” Suddenly, he turned serious, all humor leaving his face, “Hell, you’re never even around. Too busy sleeping your life away.” He brought his hand up to where George’s rested on the bar and grabbed it. “And you’re right, you never meant anything to me. You would have _never_ been my king, _My King_.” He pushed his face as close as he could to the bars.  
George looked down and thought for a moment, determination set into his features. Taking it all in, he looked back up directly into Dream’s eyes and said “that’s what I thought.” He held Dream’s gaze, not breaking eye contact once and pulled something small from his pocket. “Guess you can have this back then.” He placed a light object on the ground between Dream’s legs, where he had been sitting on his knees inches from the bars. Then George took his hand out from under Dream’s, arms balanced on his thighs, elbows pointing out and his hands held in loose fists.

Dream’s gaze slid down, and fell on a ring made of thorns. He just stared.

“You told me long ago to keep this with me,” George’s thumb brushes his ring finger. A twinge of agony apprehensive in his voice, though he tries to hide it. “Well, I did.” A crestfallen smile crosses his face as he opens his hand for Dream to see a thin tan line evident to his promise, though Dream did not look up to see.

________

Laughing, Dream and George rush through a grassy land filled with flowers, the sun descending from its noon setting. Rays of golden light fall onto their faces, lighting up their already glowing smiles. A gentle wind blows through their hair and ruffle’s their shirts.

“George!”

“Yes?”

“Give me your hand.”

“What? No, Why?

“Just give me your hand!”

“Fine!!” George held out his left hand and Dream slipped black thorns onto his ring finger.

“When you’re king I’ll turn this ring into gold.”

George smiled and held his hand up to his face smiling. And a laugh escaped him.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Even if Dream had turned around, he would still be able to hear the smile in George’s voice. The content happiness radiated off of George with every word he spoke. And the smile lit up Dream’s entire world. That one smile that meant George was completely consumed by the now, that meant that he wasn’t thinking of anything else, and that meant he was truly happy. George was his Goldheart. His heart was pure and full of joy.

Dream’s answering laugh was George’s favorite sound. If he could listen to just one sound forever it would be his laugh. He didn’t think he could ever be sick of it.

The ring was already a comfort on his finger.

________

George looks up to Dream’s face through the bars. He attempted and failed at a half smile. Hurt and sadness for both of them flooded his eyes, turning too quickly into detachment and pity.

But Dream didn’t notice, no he was still staring at the ring. His attention never wandered, then gently he picked it up. They both stayed silent. George looking at Dream and Dream looking at the ring.

The ring that had meant so much and so little at the same time and yet somehow meant even less but more now. It had just been Dream being silly. He wasn’t even sure George had kept it passed a few days.

Every now and then Dream would think of it, his surety of appointing George king and think of his golden promise, and all it implied.

It was a worthless memento, more than worthless, just a thorn he had picked from a rose. But he meant it, he meant every word he told George even if it didn’t even cross his mind that George would take it seriously or keep the ring. George had always brushed him off.

But that was before all the pain and destruction, before his madness crept in and got the better of him. Before the first war and before he learned of George’s house being set to flames. Before he ever felt the panic for George’s safety. Before he pushed him away before he could get hurt. Everything was always _before_.

Dream hated that word.

To George the ring meant many things, and it was anything but worthless. It had always been his most prized possession. Tommy cared for his discs but he couldn’t come close to his sentiment for his ring. No matter what George always wore it, whether on his finger or on a chain around his neck. Sometimes he feared others would take it, and felt a little embarrassed carrying it around for so long. He doubted Dream thought of it once since that day. He wasn’t sure how Dream meant it when he said he would turn it to gold. He wasn’t sure he liked just one definition. But he knew he liked the many ideas it presented.

He had loved the ring.

But he resented Dream for it, he resented how he cared so much for such a small token, he resented for how much it meant to him when Dream slid it onto his finger, he resented Dream for how he changed and he resented himself for how he couldn't do anything to stop him. He resented what the ring now meant and what it used to mean, he resented how it had changed.

He hated the thorns, now a mirror to his own heart. Dream was supposed to turn it to gold, and now it lay far more prickly than he ever remembered. Instead, because of Dream, his heart had turned from Golden hope to dark tightening thorns.

George thought of when he received the ring, it was a time before stress, a time before worry, before governing, and war. A time before betrayal. Now George wouldn’t let anyone hurt him or cut him as deeply as Dream had.

He hated that word, _before_ , he hated that nothing was like it had once been.

His energy was waning much faster than he thought it would, so with nothing left to say, he got up and casually strides away. Crossing the bridge silently for all except his steps. Giving up the ring was giving up the hope for what Dream had once been to him. But he was tired of heartache. It was giving up the happiness it brought him for all those years. It hurt but it was better this way, he resolved.

He didn’t look back.

_________

The guards watched the simple exchange, though they couldn’t hear what was said. Nor did they see the ring. Nothing was supposed to be brought into the cell.

“It’s a tragedy, they were so close.”

“They were so in love.”

The first one sighed, “Until he went mad.”  
_________

Dream began wearing his mask when the first had war started. The longer he had it on, the crazier he became. His love turned to lust and desperation. But he couldn’t bring himself to be near George. So he watched from afar. Made him king, and watched from the shadows. His obsession grew and all he thought of was to keep himself in power so he could make sure George got everything he deserved.

Soon he didn’t need the mask to hide his features. Still, he only took it off only when he was with George, but the madness stayed, it shone in his eyes. Soon his mask became one of emotion rather than ceramic.

He was content with George being king, and watching him from afar. Being a friend and staying near enough to reach but not to touch.

But then his house was set aflame. People wanted to _hurt_ George. They wanted to hurt Dream by hurting George. They wanted to get to Dream.

At least that’s what the voice in his head told him.

So he cracked. He left. He made sure George wouldn’t be a target and then his final scrap of humanity slipped through the cracks. He forgot about his lust, he forgot about everything but power.

He didn’t want to control from the shadows anymore, no, he wanted everyone to know just whose reign it truly was.

It was the only thing that was important.

The sadistic smiling mask told him so.

And slowly he forgot about the before.

He forgot about his childhood promise, those words exchanged between children. Forgot about his before with George, their something between a friendly love and romantic love.

All he knew was the rush of tyranny.

_________

Dream heard George’s retreating footsteps but his focus remained trained on the fragile band consumed by his hands.

A single tear escaped his eyes and fell on the thorns. It cracked through his mask. Through the madness and power, his facade, his memory. For the first time in a very long time, Dream knew emotions again. He felt despair and the joy of seeing George. He felt like falling through the earth. Falling from the sun, plummeting down after his desperation for power that blinded him, so like Icarus. He felt crushed. His heart felt crushed. Like he might never breathe again. Then came the panic. And then his hyperventilation and shaking.

Finally he felt his head cleared. He felt as if he were able to think again, able to remember everything in stark clarity.

He remembered everything he had done since he first donned the mask, everything that had been blurred in his mind since the voice taken over.

He remembered everything everything before the mask and everything the voice had said and done with his body.

He was brought back to a world before, with George. The laughter they shared, the future they wanted to head into together.

George had finally let Dream go. 

Let his hope for Dream go.

And it hurt more than any injury Dream had received, and words he’d been called or told. Any threat he'd received.

Unbeknownst to all, Dream possessed magic. Raw magic. The prison suppressed it, and he wouldn’t be able to draw up anymore up, but he preserved some just before his capture. Enough to escape if he played it well. It wasn’t much, but it’d be enough. Sitting there alone, Dream let out a shattering sigh. Then closed his eyes, and covered the ring with both his hands.  
He let every drop of power seep into those thorns. He felt energy drain from him and rush into the dried plant.

When he opened his hands, the ring was no longer black with red undertones, now it gleamed. A beautiful sun kissed gold, and glowing with fading magic.

Knowing it would feel too much like betrayal to set it on his finger, he gently placed it just beyond the bars a final gift to George, his hands shaking barely enough to register.

Finally fulfilling a long ago promise.

One he would never again forget.

If walls could talk, his would tell you that as he got up with dry eyes, and a set face, he walked back into the welcoming shadows, and had an acceptance for everything. Everything that happened, everything he did or caused, and for what George decided. He accepted his defeat, his evermore encaging and his forsaken solitary.

But his walls would also tell you that later that night, with no one to hear or provide testament, a sob racked Dream's body as he thought of all he had finally and truly lost.

__________

Inspired by Fanart:  
https://www.instagram.com/p/CKw6jo1lEs4/  
https://www.instagram.com/p/CKw6yhmlJ5N/


End file.
